


Layer 02: A Bit Strangle-y

by thegreatwordologist



Series: I Know Other 'Verses [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: A bit of a crackfic, Alternate Universe, Arthur hides his true self, Gen, Martin gets a new job, Mayhem, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatwordologist/pseuds/thegreatwordologist
Summary: As auditions go, this one is shaping up to be very impressive... at least, according to Carolyn.





	Layer 02: A Bit Strangle-y

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/gifts).



The door to the portacabin slammed open, bouncing against the wall and crashing back into Martin, but the young man didn't seem to notice. His eyes were wild and panicked under his shock of ginger curls, and he was babbling, the words tumbling out of his mouth too quickly for even the avid Martin-watcher to have trouble translating. 

Rather than even try, Douglas rose from where he sat, striding over to his captain, and clapping a hand over Martin's mouth until Martin calmed. Carolyn and Arthur exchanged a look seconds before Arthur pasted a vacantly worried smile on his face. 

"All right now," Douglas said gently, starting to pull his hand free. "What seems - " He got no farther.

"I killed him! Oh god, I killed him. What am I going to do?!" he demanded of his colleagues, grabbing ineffectually for the phone. "I _killed_ him!"

"Martin do shut up," Carolyn barked, pointing to the chair opposite her desk, and Douglas pushed Martin into it. Martin sank down, hands twisting against each other with white-knuckled worrying and his eyes lifting hopelessly to Carolyn. "Arthur, go see what he's babbling about." And just like that, Martin was up again, slamming himself between Arthur and the door.

"No! Carolyn, didn't you hear?! I _killed_ someone! You can't send your son out." Arthur turned away from Martin, looking at his mother, and Carolyn groaned feelingly.

"Oh FINE! Go ahead," she muttered, rubbing her forehead as she sat down. When Arthur turned back to look at Martin, the vacant smile was gone. There was still warmth and compassion in his eyes, but Arthur looked... strange.

"I don't... Arthur?" Martin asked weakly, and Arthur reached up to ruffle Martin's curls.

"Sorry, Skip," he apologized. "Mum said." And he ducked around Martin, deftly avoiding Martin's desperate grab at him. 

"Carolyn, you don't understand," Martin turned again. "I ran him over with my van. It's... he's... There's blood," he finally burst out, reaching for the door without noticing Douglas' hand splayed against it, holding it shut.

"As auditions go, this one is shaping up to be very impressive," Carolyn smirked, her fingers laced together on her desk. "Sit down, Martin." Her tone was steel-edged. 

"...Auditions?" Martin whispered, looking between the two remaining members of MJN warily before he sank down into his seat.

"We could call the police, of course," Carolyn began, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "But that would certainly end in an uncomfortable day for you, Martin, wouldn't it?"

A tiny squeak escaped Martin's throat, his gaze flicking down to the phone on Carolyn's desk, then back up to her blue eyes, and he shrank into his chair. He wouldn't survive in prison! He couldn't! He could barely survive life on the outside; how could he possibly be expected to make it through prison?!

"No one's going to prison," Douglas murmured from behind him, large hands coming to rest on Martin's shoulders and squeezing. There was a strength to them that calmed Martin, and his trembling began to slow.

"Of course not," Carolyn agreed. "But Martin, you realize that my silence has a price."

"Wh-what price?" Martin demanded, his voice shaky and weak, but at least he'd actually spoken. "You barely pay me as it is!"

"I imagine that you'd like me to keep this little... accident... quiet, wouldn't you?" Carolyn asked archly, and Martin got the impression she was just stopping herself from rubbing her hands together gleefully. She had him over a barrel, really, and his shoulders sagged as acceptance began to filter in.

"What do I have to do?" he whispered, aware that Douglas was looking at Carolyn through darkly meaningful eyes in silence.

"Welcome to my _other_ business, Martin. Once you've gotten over your morals a bit, I think you'll be quite happy with us." As she spoke, she reached up to the loose ascot and pulled something out. Martin frowned, squinting a bit as he leaned in to look, but it just seemed to be a bit of wire.

Wire... that she was wrapping around each hand. Martin's eyes lifted to hers, and he realized just how predatory she really looked. "Of course," she added, once the wire was wound around both hands tightly enough, she smiled, and that expression was terrifying. It spoke of possession and certainty, and a depravity that made him think of blood on vulcanized rubber, of skidmarks on pavement.

"Of course," she repeated, padding slowly toward him. Martin pressed backward in his chair, stopping only when the back of his head brushed against Douglas' gut. "If you feel you're too weak to provide the services we require...."

Martin squeaked again, but then Douglas had his arm in one large hand, and tugged it until Martin unwillingly twisted in the chair to look at the older man. Douglas' eyes looked soft and understanding, and they made Martin want to lean against the man, or perhaps hide behind him until this monster stopped pretending to be Carolyn.

"It's clean, Mum," Arthur said cheerfully, as he ducked back into the portacabin. Martin didn't turn to look at him, but he could hear the surprised expression in the man's face.

"Oh, are we recruiting Skip, too?" _Too?_ , Martin thought frantically. 

"Recruiting me for what?!" Martin whined, the frustrated sound fading when Douglas began to card his hand through Martin's hair. Arthur moved to kneel beside his chair, and gone was the dopey steward Martin had grown so fond of. In his place was someone Martin was quite sure he'd never actually met.

"To become an assassin, Skip," he said, and though the words sounded like they might've come out of Arthur's mouth, the flavor of them was all wrong. There was darkness there, and anticipation, and...

"Wait," Martin suddenly demanded aloud, to cut off his train of thought. " _Assassins?!_

Carolyn's predatory smile returned full-force. "Yes," she whispered, but as Martin's eyes darted to the phone again, they both knew who had won.

"Oh god," Martin whispered, bolting up and shoving past them to get out the door so that he could duck into a nearby toilet. Long after his stomach was empty, he just knelt in front of the porcelain, staring at it blankly. 

\---

When he emerged from the toilet nearly an hour later, no longer shaking or feeling like he would fly apart with just a breath, he was greeted by the sight of large cake square in the center of Carolyn's desk, with the three of them lounging around near it. 

"...What?" he asked, his voice still hoarse from the bile he'd expelled. 

The cake read simply, "Welcome, Martin!"

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this really does justice to the inspiration [Linguini](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/pseuds/Linguini) offered me when we first started talking about this crazy idea, so I may be revisiting this universe in the future. But I loved the concept too much to ignore it, and this particular scene just felt right to me. 
> 
> Linguini, thanks for the help! This was fun!


End file.
